


Darling, I Promise I'll Come Back (But I'm Sorry It'll Take So Long)

by ohmygoshwhatascream



Series: Xenoblade Ship Week 2020 [1]
Category: Xenoblade Chronicles
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence, Communication, Happy Ending, It's all soft, Multi, OT3, Polygamy, Spoilers, because I love her, because it's gadolt lmao, follows the events of the game, gadolt is soft, healthy polygamous relationships, let them be happy pls monolith i beg, reyn is soft, sharla is soft, sharla-centric
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-10
Updated: 2020-06-10
Packaged: 2021-03-03 21:07:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24642217
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ohmygoshwhatascream/pseuds/ohmygoshwhatascream
Summary: Sharla finds herself alone in a war-torn world, her old life uprooted and upturned. Her home is gone, her fiance is very possibly dead (although she does not want to believe it) and her brother hates her. She doesn't know what to do, how to help. All she can do is stay here, stay in the refugee camp and do what she can.But then Shulk and Reyn come along, with their eyes burning with a fire that she had begun to forget, and a journey that spanned the furthest reaches of the Bionis ahead of them.Written for Xenoblade Ship Week 2020.Prompt: Promise/Sorry
Relationships: Gadolt/Reyn (Xenoblade Chronicles), Gadolt/Sharla (Xenoblade Chronicles), Gadolt/Sharla (Xenoblade Chronicles)/Reyn (Xenoblade Chronicles), Reyn/Sharla (Xenoblade Chronicles)
Series: Xenoblade Ship Week 2020 [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1781698
Comments: 12
Kudos: 21





	Darling, I Promise I'll Come Back (But I'm Sorry It'll Take So Long)

**Author's Note:**

> I had to do it. Had to write the poly fic. OT3s are always underrated as hell and this one is no exception, but I'm a sucker for happy endings and I love sharla/reyn in-game, although I wish more time had been spent on Sharla after the events with Gadolt. 
> 
> But does this Gadolt!lives AU make any sense? Not really. How does Gadolt survive? Uh, he just does, okay. Because we could all do with some happiness right now and I just want them all to be happy.
> 
> Hope you enjoy! x

In a moment of peace, she lays with Gadolt. Amidst the ever-growing chaos, the rising tension that festers like an open wound through Colony 6, there is a moment of respite; a whisper of quiet that they take for themselves. Like starving men, parched travellers lost in the heat of desert, they grasp greedily at this moment of respite, drain this moment for its every last drop. They stay in one another's presence until there is no time left; until the hourglass has run dry and there is no other option but to move. 

They take this moment and savour it; for they do not know when they will next see each other, when they will next have the chance to simply live, to not feel the sting of fear or the fatigue of panic, to simply enjoy each others' presence with a simplicity that they had grown to forget.

His hand cards through her hair, dark skin lost in dark curls. He pulls through the tangles and knots, fingers catching and tugging but never once does she feel any pain. His touch is soft and gentle, comforting. Something that grounds her when her mind lies in turmoil, a piece of the earth that she carries with her. She is wild, like the wind, she thinks. A balloon that floats higher and higher, one driven by thoughts and feelings and one that never stays stagnant, one that never stays still. She feels herself slipping into daydream, into void-space where her mind threatens to carry her away. Her hope burns strong but her fire is waning thin. Too long with little sleep, too much of her time has been spent with only her thoughts as company. Her thoughts and the wailing siren far above, a sound that will (although she does not know it yet) become a staple in her nightmares, a screech that haunts her mind when it is at its most vulnerable.

She leans into Gadolt's touch, takes pleasure in the coolness of his skin against her own, the roughness of her hand as it traces the curve of her cheekbone. Gadolt is sharp and methodical. Grounded. Technical where she is emotional, driven in the earth while she swirls in the sky. He is here, besides her, despite it all and still she pushes against his hand, harder and harder as if she can meld herself to him. As if she can become one with him, be attached in such a way that they can never be parted.

The moment is ending, soon they will have to leave. Soon she will leave him, help the children, the elderly, flee the hellscape of their homeland, flee the war-torn remains of their old lives. He will stay behind. The last fight, the final sacrifice. Perhaps the only chance left for them to ever return to Colony 6. 

She does not want to leave him. It feels as though she is running, as though she is leaving him here to die. But she cannot doubt him. She must believe that he can make it out of here alive, that he and the rest of their defence force can overcome the odds sent against them, achieve the impossible and reclaim their stolen land from the Mechon's oil-slick-black occupation. 

But, for now, she tries to put such thoughts behind her. She tries to clear her mind of all thoughts of death, of all thoughts of war. She shifts herself until her forehead presses against his own, his eyes meeting hers, and she thinks of happier days.

She remembers their first meeting, long ago. When her hair had been cropped short by uneven gardening scissors, (she remembers cutting her hair in secret, hiding in the garden shed with black locks swathed around her feet) and when her knees had been scratched and bruised, her knuckles bloody, remnants of fights she had won - she was just as strong as anyone else, and she was perfectly capable of providing for her and her little brother, thank you very much. Her limbs were too long for a body she hadn't quite grown into yet and with her, she carried that adolescent defiance, the will to be independent in a world that did not see her mature enough.

Stubborn, not unlike Juju is now. Defensive. 14 years old with something to prove, 14 years old with no idea where her place in the world was. 

He'd been four years older than her, barely 18 when they'd first met. Trapped in between the limbo of child and adult, he too not yet sure where his life would lead him. A new recruit in the defence force, still unsteady on his feet. And Sharla - at first - had watched him train from afar, fist fighting with a friend from the force. He was learning to fight, she realised, something which she had learned long ago. (people and monsters could be cruel in tough times and Sharla soon realised that if she and her brother were going to survive, she'd have to learn how to defend the two of them) His stance was wrong, though. And his friend wasn't much better. She could see it from a distance, the way the two of them seemed awkward with their positions, holding themselves too tight, their movements stilted and their jabs jolting and wrong. She can see how his feet are held too close together, so close that he can't keep his balance, that even the slightest touch could send him sprawling. He's tall, muscular, but size can only account for so much. If the foundations are wrong, the house will crumble; and this is exactly the same. 

So, with a boldness only accountable for her defiant youth and her reigning free spirit, she goes to him, to his friend. 

"You're not standing right." She says, impertinence in her voice and a cock to her hip. She points at Gadolt specifically, for his friend is bad but he is worse, and she holds herself as high as she possibly can. At first, he looks unimpressed; looks at her gangly limbs and raises one eyebrow. His friend laughs, not unkindly but Sharla bristles nonetheless. "Am I?" He responds and his voice is deep, quieter than Sharla would have thought. Up this close, he is tall too, old enough that he's long since reached his growth spurt and for Sharla - who seems to be a late bloomer in everything - he towers high above her. She does not lose her cool, however. Instead, she smiles, shifts her weight from one foot to the next in feigned nonchalance and says, "Here, let me show you."

His friend laughs and Gadolt roughly tells him to shut it, before - as if humouring her - he rolls his eyes and prepares his stance for a fight. 

It takes all of two seconds for Sharla to have him landing flat on his ass, and this time it is her who looks down at him from above, a confident hand on her cocked hip and a wicked smirk worn plain on her face.

Gadolt's friend howls with laughter, watching with interest from afar. 

Gadolt looks up at her, his face twisted - part annoyed, part embarrassed, and part impressed - and gets to his feet once more. "That was a fluke," he says, "You won't get me down so easily this time." 

He readies his stance once more, his feet close together and his body awkward and uncomfortable. Sharla laughs, and he finds himself on the ground once more. 

"I'll teach you," she says with a laugh, "if you want. Maybe, one day, you'll be good enough to beat me." She holds out her hand, her grin sharp as she looks down at him. Gadolt looks up at her, his expression almost affronted, but after a moment it softens into something Sharla can't quite decipher. He takes her hand, lets himself be hauled upwards. "You're just a kid," he says.

Sharla cocks her head, tenses her jaw. "So are you, really." She responds. 

Much, much later that day, when they are both tired and sweaty from the summer heat, dirt clinging to their damp skin and their hair unruly and muscles aching, Gadolt looks down at her. There's a cut on his cheek from where Sharla had caught him with her fist (she hadn't meant to hit that hard, but they were fighting and he hadn't dodged in time) that will with no doubt bruise and his breath comes in hard, short puffs. Sharla - for a moment - fears that this was a mistake.

But then he smiles, eyes glinting like fireworks in night sky, and Sharla feels colour explode in her chest.

"Hey," he says, his voice that deep rumble that seems to travel through the very ground they stand on. "Since you taught me hand-to-hand combat, how about you swing 'round tomorrow and I'll teach you how to use a rifle?" 

He holds out his hand, calloused and worn and much larger than Sharla's own. She takes it in hers, holds it and her eyes meet his. She shakes it once, firmly. "It's a deal," she says.

x

She learns to use a rifle and although she never gets quite as good with Gadolt with it, he never gets quite as good at fighting. That's their deal, of sorts. They train together and the years fly by and soon Sharla is no longer the gangly teen inching her way into her adult years and soon Gadolt is fully grown, out on active duty.

They still keep in touch, though, when he gets sent out more and more. Sharla stays behind with Otharon, her mentor of sorts who had soon grown into the father she was missing, and she learns new things - more than just rifles and guns and shooting. She learns that she has an affinity for the very ether in the air, a way with herbs and plants and a sharp eye for what is poisonous and what is not. Her hands are gentle and her mind is strong, she does not crack under pressure and it is her ability to remain calm and collected under even the very worst of scenarios that leads her life down a whole new path. She is emotional, it is her heart that guides her, an instinct that has been instilled within her for as long as she can remember. She heals, she mends, and after all these years of fighting, she finds herself truly knowing what she wants.

Juju is getting older and he clamours for his independence. Just like her when she was his age. He grows and changes, as does Sharla, and a new path is set out before them. A rifle is for fighting, for hurting, but Sharla wants much more than that. She does not want only chaos, only destruction. Her hands are slender, calloused from hard work yet still soft, still gentle. She thinks of the pansies she grows in her front garden, of how these hands can make life, of how they can soothe and heal and bring light to the ever-growing darkness. That is what she wants to do, she decides. So she forges her new path, steps away from what is expected and she decides that, although she is perfectly capable of holding her own ground in a fight, that is not all she wishes to do. That is not all she wishes to be. 

When Gadolt returns on his latest mission, his shoulder bleeding where he'd been clipped by a Volff's sharp claws, it is Sharla who tends to him. 

He looks up at her from the bedside, looks at the angle of her cheekbones and the straight line of her nose. She dabs at his arm with antiseptic and he winces, and the words blurt out of his mouth before he can stop them.

"When do you get off work?" He asks, and now it is he who is nervous, he who chews on his bottom lip as Sharla raises one dark eyebrow at him. 

Adulthood suits her. She is taller, more confident than she once was, and she carries herself in such a way that draws Gadolt to her. He has always been drawn to her, back when they were both younger, when she had seemed so small, gangly and slim and weak and she had proven him wrong, punched him in the face so hard his skin had split. And now she is here, half-smiling down at Gadolt, her hands stilling on his injury and her hair slipping out of her hastily-done ponytail, dark hair casting shadows upon her face.

"In a few hours," she pauses, her eyes brightening. "I'll pick you up at six." 

And with a wink that sends heat rushing to Gadolt's cheeks, she deftly bandages his arm before leaving him to his own devices. "Where are you picking me up from?" He asks to the empty air, slightly bemused.

He supposes it does not really matter. Sharla will find him, he thinks, no matter what. And he quite likes that idea. In fact, he likes it very much indeed.

x

Nobody is surprised, at all, when a month later they are dating. She, naturally, tells Otharon who, over the years, has become a father to her. He shakes his head when she tells him, that gruff expression he carries around like storm clouds worn plain on his face. "Don't let it distract you," he growls, brow creased in a permanent frown. But, later, he takes Sharla's hand and squeezes it. It's warm against her own and Sharla smiles.

x

A relationship between two defence force soldiers is unconventional, at best. Their schedules overlap constantly and the two find themselves rarely finding enough time to spend with one another. 

So, then, a deal is made. 

Why not try and seek comfort when the other is gone? As long as they are open and honest about it, why should either one of them care? So their relationship becomes open. Not very often, mind you, but the chance is there. There are times, like the sweet florist and another soldier who Gadolt worked closely with. Piece by piece, other people slot into their relationship.

None of them are permanent, but sometimes Sharla doesn't think she'd mind if they were. Perhaps not them, specifically, but Sharla has a heart for healing, for caring, and love spills out of her like the spattering of rain from the sky. Her and Gadolt both have a lot to give and they are happy together.

Gadolt encourages her to find others, as she does with him, and Sharla thinks that both their hearts are big enough that a third person could easily slot in beside them. She is yet to find that third person, someone who would fit between the two of them like they had always belonged.

x

The proposal is a surprise to everyone, especially Sharla. In her eyes, they had already been married. 

"It's more out of convenience," Gadolt tells her when he slides the ring onto her finger.

"Oh, so I'm 'convenient' now?" She jibes back, feigning an offence that is ruined by the betraying flush high on her cheeks. He laughs in response, deep and throaty, like he always has. Fire shoots down Sharla's spine. 

"You know what I mean." 

And she did. They didn't need to be married, they didn't need their love to be proven on some old documents, but it would help. 

If anything were to go wrong, if anything were to happen to either of them, marriage was a safety net. In lives as high risk as their own, it would be good to be officially married. 'Girlfriend' (a term that Sharla detests with her whole being, but 'partner' sounds too formal and 'significant other' takes too long to say) was - in the eyes of the law - not considered family. And they were family. 

So, maybe this was a good idea.

"We don't have to go through the whole ceremony, if you don't want to." Gadolt continues, grinning as Sharla stands on her tiptoes, leaning up to kiss him smartly on the lips. 

"I mean…" Sharla starts, "It's an excuse to have a celebration." 

And it is. With everything going on now, the people of Colony 6 could use something to cheer them up, even if that 'something' is as self-serving as a wedding ceremony.

"Then it's settled," Gadolt says. And then he pauses, tilts his head and places his hands upon her waist. "I love you." 

No matter how many times he says it, it still takes her breath away.

"I love you too." 

x

Their wedding never happens, for Colony 6 is invaded and - as Sharla thinks then - that is the end of all good things in her life.

"I promise," he says, when Sharla tells him to stay alive. "I promise I'll still be here."

She thinks of their last moment together, of those seconds of peace. His forehead against her own, years of happy memories swirling in her own head. She thinks of all their promises, of their promise to wed. The vows they will never get to say. Till death do us part, she thinks. 

Her blood runs cold.

She kisses him goodbye for what could be the last time, but still he promises.

Sharla knows that they are empty, that such promises are merely a fool's wish, promises of life are difficult to keep and easily broken. She is devoted, though. And that promise is a star in the night sky and Sharla wishes on it.

I'm sorry we can't be together. I'm sorry I have to leave. But please, promise me you'll be okay. Please, Gadolt. 

She remembers all of this as they hold each other, not knowing if they'll ever get the chance to be like this again. While the world falls in a torrent of thunder around them, whilst Mechon plague their home, whilst everything they had once known is destroyed, they exist within one another, they take their silent vows and they promise that - no matter what - they will find each other once more.

Through sickness and in health. 'Til death do us part. 

I do.

x

It is lonely, in the refugee camp. And it is depressing.

Sadness seeps into the cavern's walls like disease, sickness of the mind spreading in the dark nights and overcast days. People are lost, people are not coming home, not that there is even a home to return to.

Juju rebels, Juju is not happy and there is nothing Sharla can do. She is spread thin, helping the soldiers who manage to escape the death-land that was once Colony 6. Every time, she checks. Could it be Gadolt? But it never is.

She grows more distant and Juju becomes angrier. She is not good to him, she is short with him, irritated by his impertinence that reminds her so much of herself when she was his age. He rebels more and more and she grows snappier and snappier and everything is falling apart.

Her fiance is gone, her brother hates her, she's lost her home and countless of her friends are dead. She is one healer for dozens of people, she works from dawn until daybreak, twenty-four hours a day. She does not sleep, for there is no time and she fades like tissue paper in sunlight.

She wears herself thinner and thinner until her skin turns translucent and she feels as if she is disappearing, burning away in sunlight that never seems to shine on her.

Gadolt does not return and she does not know what to do.

All she can do is carry on.

x

Yet, despite it all, not everything is lost.

She meets Shulk and Reyn when her hope has almost vanished. Her hope, her ability to hold out belief in a better future, the one thing she had always managed to cling on to. Her hold had been fading, her resolve crumbling, and then Reyn and Shulk had upturned the very fabric of her life in hurricane storm. Two friends bound together by the fate of another, guided by their own pain and torment and on a journey to save their world and the next. It is idealistic, doomed to fail, but Sharla sees the fire in their eyes and she wants what they desire. She wants the Mechon gone, she wants their homes returned. She wants her fiance back. She has always held out for success in the impossible, for victory over adversity, and she desperately wants to believe that these two can change something. That maybe - with her help - their home is not lost. That maybe, one day, they will be able to call Colony 6 home once more. 

Shulk is soft like summer clouds. Like morning rain upon the propped up tents, a quiet pitter-patter that soothes like a heartbeat. He is delicate, pale and washed out like soft tulip petals. His eyes are bluer than the sky itself and when he smiles, although he does not often, he is gold like the sunbeams themselves. He is strange, quiet and reserved and he loses himself in daydreams and disappears for hours on end in the maze of his own mind. The Monado is stark on his back, deep red, dark crimson that hints of danger and mystery and a world far beyond the colonies. It is red like fire, like anger, like Reyn who stands next to him with his thick eyebrows furrowed. Where Shulk is quiet, Reyn is loud. They are opposites, two sides of a coin, night and day. They are the closest of friends and it warms Sharla's heart to see, amidst it all, a relationship as strong as this one. 

They capture her attention, but Reyn especially. He is tall, strong, dark skin and dark eyes. Sharla had made a joke earlier, just something to lighten the mood, and Reyn's laugh had been loud and true. The dark expression on his face had parted, like lightning in a storm, and he had shone out bright and bold. He is handsome, Sharla thinks. Had the circumstances been different, had Gadolt still been here, Sharla is almost certain she would have tried her luck with him - if Gadolt hadn't got to him first. 

The two of them, Reyn and Shulk, had a fire, a life in them that had long burned out in Colony 6.

It's hope, Sharla realises. For those in Colony 9 still had hope. There was still something to fight for. It ignites her own dismal flames, lights up the dreary cavern walls of their camp. The night sky becomes illuminated with stars and Sharla finds herself wishing upon them once more. 

So Sharla helps them, shows them the ropes of the camp and helps them settle in. Part of her was annoyed, when Juju had first brought them here. More strangers? More people that would need supplies they did not have? But Shulk and Reyn, in the short time they had been here, had already pulled more than their own weight. 

She hopes they'll stay for a while. Not just for the help they bring, but because she finds herself enjoying their company, enjoying the fire and determination they bring. 

Part of her does not want them to leave, not quite yet. It pains her to admit but she is still needed here, she cannot just get up and go for blue eyes and red hair and hope for a better future. She hopes that, when they do need to move on, she can come with them. 

So she welcomes them and she finds herself forming a friendship of sorts between the two of them. 

Especially Reyn. He reminds her of Gadolt, yet simultaneously he is Gadolt's complete opposite. He is brave, strong-willed, determined like Gadolt is. He is good with children, gentle when they need kindness and stern when they need reprimanding. He has a light about him, a friendliness that draws all those around him closer; like a moth to a flame.

He is like Gadolt, yet less refined. Wilder, unruly. So similar, yet the complete opposite. He is younger, perhaps not as intellectually inclined, but it's… well, it's endearing, embarrassingly so. He says what he thinks and Sharla finds his honesty refreshing; in a world where everyone seemed to be treading on eggshells, Reyn was barreling ahead. Not insensitively, not without thought, but Reyn is loyal, determined. He does what he thinks is right and he does it abashedly so. 

However, she fears that she has irritated him, it was not fair of her to compare him to someone else, especially when Reyn was so confident, so sure of himself and so comfortable in his own skin. At first, she thinks that, perhaps, she went too far with it - and perhaps she had - but soon she learns that Reyn forgives and forgets with ease. He is carefree, casual with a lackadaisical air that Sharla can't help but admire. It does not take her long to realise that Reyn is not like Gadolt. They have similarities, pieces between them that match, but they are different; completely different.

But, Sharla finds, Reyn is no less captivating. 

He's… nice. Sharla feels guilty for such a thought, especially when her fiance is missing, but Gadolt had always encouraged her to pursue who she liked. She curses herself for the ways of her heart, for the ease in which she (and Gadolt) had both gifted their affections to others. She already knows that Gadolt would want her to pursue him, (had things been the other way round, Sharla is certain that Gadolt would be in exactly the same predicament now) but Gadolt is not here and Sharla is not comfortable explaining the unusual dynamics of their relationship to these near-strangers. 

She's sure that the two of them will eventually hear rumours, her and Gadolt's polygamy had occasionally been a source of scandal for some of the older members of Colony 6, but for now there are more pressing matters at hand. 

She doesn't want to, but she likes Reyn. She hopes they can stay longer. 

x

Her wish comes in a different form than she would have liked, for it is Juju who is the catalyst for the new path her life forges.

He is gone, taken by the Mechon, and Sharla feels her heart sink. 

She leaves the camp, her head alight with wildfire, smoke clouding her vision as the weeks of little-to-no-sleep catch up with her. She had always prided herself on her ability to remain calm and collected when things are at their worst, but she finds herself crumbling under the pressure. She feels like an adolescent once more, a whirlwind of rapid emotions that she can't even hope to contain.

Yet then it is Reyn who brings her down, like Gadolt once had when things had grown too much for her to handle. It is Reyn who snaps her out of it, who grounds her when all her mind wants to do is float away.

It is Reyn, not Gadolt, and she can't help it, she bursts into tears.

She cries quietly, softly, like the prelude to a thunderstorm. Quiet, her voice delicate like glass; so fragile, so close to shattering into a million pieces. "Sorry," she mumbles, wiping at her eyes, cringing at the awkward expressions on Shulk and Reyn's faces. "Sorry, you remind me of-"

"Of Gadolt, right?" And Reyn's voice is not unkind, not irritated like it had been earlier, but it is that sad sort of lilting tone that people use when they don't quite know how to make things better. That awkwardness, that pity - no, empathy, to something that cannot be changed. Sharla nods, averting her gaze. "Sor-"

"Don't apologise again, it's fine. We've all lost someone, We- we know how you feel. Kind of, I mean, we lost a friend; but they were like family and I-"

It is Sharla who cuts Reyn off with a hand on his bicep. She can see a storm brewing behind Reyn's own dark eyes and can see the way Shulk has averted his gaze, looking down at the floor as if it would open him up and swallow him. This war, this endless battle between Bionis and Mechonis, has been raging on for far too long. They all have wounds, all have scars that have been left behind.

But Sharla has devoted her life to healing. For the mind and body, for hope and for a future that could one day hold happiness. All she wants to do is scream, is cry. Is shout and shout and shout until the world morphs itself into something she wants, but she refuses to succumb to darkness, to fall into despair. She heals, she mends bones and cleans wounds. She heals, cures maladies and cares for those who cannot care for themselves. But she can fight. She is not someone who will sit back and let the world carry on without her. She will keep going and she will not stop fighting. "Thank you," her smile is soft, tentative, but there is no falsehood that lies in it. "Thank you so much."

All Reyn does is smile, a tad bashfully, his hand scrubbing at the back of his neck. When his eyes meet Sharla, he averts his gaze, a flush rising high on his cheeks. There is a moment, where Sharla looks at Reyn and wonders what Gadolt would think of him.

He'd like him, she thinks. He'd probably tell you to stop worrying and just go for it. 

But he's not here now and things just aren't right. They have to keep moving forward. 

Shulk coughs awkwardly, head inclining towards Gaur Plains. "Uh, we need to go. Now."

x

Juju is gone and Sharla didn't think things could get any worse. 

They had saved him. Shulk had seen the future, seen through the very fabric of this world and into the next, into the what could be, into the new tomorrows.

They had changed the future. They had torn apart their destinies and written their own stories, forged their own paths, yet Juju is still gone. 

They had done everything they could have. Everything, and it's still not right.

x

When they get to Colony 6, Sharla wants to be sick. She says Colony 6 like it is still her home, like it is still there. 

The armaments that surround it are towering, the battlements of war - her home, no longer a place of refuge and safety but a place of death and destruction. Now inhabited by the enemy, everything she had thought she once knew was gone.

She wonders what happened to her house, the one she had lived in all her life. The only true remains of her parents' lost lives. The wall in the living room, the one where she had scratched Juju's height in every single year, watched him grow and grow and grow and get older and older. It had most likely been scrapped, torn down for materials and rebuilt for an upper hand in the war. Mechon were just machines, but they were smart. Wherever they came from, whoever had made them, sent them here to their homes, they knew what they were doing and they were ruthless. 

The house she had found solace in, her safety net in a war-torn world, has become a pawn in destruction. 

Now it was gone and there was nothing to be done about it. Even if they were to emerge from this endeavour victorious, nothing can replace what is already destroyed. Their home is gone, everything is different, and she does not know if they can ever go back. 

But there is no time for her to focus, no time for her to mourn. They have to keep moving, they have to get into the mines. Every moment spent here, every moment reminiscing about the things she can never have again, is another second lost on Juju's life. He is only a child, he is her brother, and he is all she has left. 

And, a small part of her can't help but wonder. Maybe Gadolt is down there, she thinks. 

She had thought she had run out of hope, that she had lost sight of the light ahead. But there is Reyn, his hand warm and large and heavy on her shoulder, a squeeze of life that sends soft fire trickling down her skin.

"Are you okay?" He asks, voice low as Shulk walks on ahead. She tilts her head to look up at him, looks at the weary tiredness in his honey-brown eyes. She does not answer; instead, she takes Reyn's hand in her own and squeezes it.

He looks surprised, but then, like daybreak peeking through a grey-washed sky, his face breaks out into a smile. Hesitant, nervous, but it meets his eyes and Sharla feels her breath get taken away,

x

She finds Otharon, down in those dreary mines, but there is no Gadolt.

She wants to cry, she wants to scream, she wants to yell and yell until the Bionis itself cannot ignore her. She wants the Mechon to burn, every last one of them. She wants them to pay for what they have done, she wants her old life back and for this to all be over. She does not want to be here, not on this world, not alone. 

Shulk and Reyn understand, she thinks that - maybe - they might be thinking exactly the same thing. They had all lost so much and things only seemed to be getting worse. The mines were crawling with Mechon, and it would only take a few weeks before their numbers were high enough to pledge another attack. If things continued like this, the Homs wouldn't stand a chance.

All this fighting… all this war and pain and suffering and there was still no end in sight.

But they continue onwards, for Otharon knows where Juju is, although he does not know where Gadolt has gone. Uncertainty looms in the sickness-glow of the mine, hope for a better future beginning to wane as the four of them traverse through familiar ground changed beyond recognition. Sharla had grown up knowing these mines like the back of her hand - it had been commonplace for childhood games and dares to challenge one another into the depths of the mine - but now it was all different. This was not her Colony 6, this was not the place she grew up in.

But there is a chance that Juju is still here. A chance that he might still be living. And Gadolt, too. Otharon says he is gone, that he is no longer here, but that doesn't mean… That...

(Dead, he does not say, but why else would he have Gadolt's rifle? What else could that mean?)

Sharla cannot save the world, she cannot undo what has already happened, but she'll be damned if she loses another person today.

She thinks of what Reyn had said, of the words that had - unthinkingly - spilt from his tired mind. Eating, the Mechon tearing apart flesh and blood and bone and taking Homs' bodies for their own enjoyment. She wants to cry again, she wants to stop all of this. To stop fighting, to stop trying, to sit down and wait for the Mechon to find them. To surrender, for right now it all feels like too much. But she does not. She cannot. No matter how hard things get, she will always fight. So she readies her rifle, sorts out her ether cylinders and stretches her aching arms. They will win this. One fight, one small battle today, and then the war. They will emerge victorious.

Deeper they tread into ether-glow, the mines swarming with Mechon and Sharla's heart permanently thumping in her throat. Reyn is tense and Shulk is worried, he says strange things that Sharla can't even begin to understand and she wonders what other powers that sword hides - if it really can see the future. Now, however, is not the time to ask. They must continue, they must save Juju, for he is all Sharla has left.

x

The events that follow pass in a whirlwind of memory that Sharla can't even begin to piece together. All she knows is that Juju is safe and Reyn had very nearly died to save Otharon. 

Her legs are weak and she can barely seem to stand and Gadolt's rifle is heavy on her back, a weight that she never thought she would have to carry. But Reyn stands beside her, bone-tired too, and he holds her up, keeps her afloat the raging storm as she feels the first breath of moonlight against her skin. She had laughed as they had ran to the lift, ran as Reyn had been so simplistic, so straightforward yet so right as the five of them had eventually fled the poisonous light of green ether. 

Xord was defeated. They had won, they had saved Juju and they had halted the Mechon's plans for another attack. She laughs, loud and clear, as she unthinkingly grabs Reyn's hand - pulls him to the direction of the lift.

It is not funny, and she is not happy - not truly, anyway. Gadolt is still gone, he is still missing. His rifle is on her back and he is nowhere to be seen. There is still a war, a destroyed village and a camp filled with lifelessness. There is darkness that they cannot hope to disperse, but they are battle-weary, they are exhausted, and Sharla will laugh - half-mad, half-elated - as they escape these once-homely lands, escape the plague of memory and pain. They will emerge here victorious. Emerge here better off than they had once been. 

Of course, their escape is cut short by Xord's sudden reappearance, his body weakened, luminous ether dripping off him in venomous waves. His body crackles, the Mechon armour fractured, splitting at the seams where the ether has melted the bonds.

But still, he keeps fighting. He's tenacious, a determination that Sharla has never seen in these machines before. Maybe it is the voice, the humanisation of such a creature, but Sharla feels something different about this Mechon. He… he feels… like a homs. Not a mindless machine. Not something programmed and controlled. In his last moments, he had grown desperate. He had feared death, feared his failure. 

But they defeat him and he is gone. Things could get better, she thinks, and her hope returns to her like the glow of the moon in a sea of darkness. 

Yet once they reach the top, once they escape the Ether Mine, now crumbling in on itself, they don't even get a moment's rest before there are more Mechon, more voices. 

Xord is gone but in its place is Metal Face, a foe far more treacherous than the last.

There is a battle, Sharla remembers it the next day for there are cuts on her skin and an ache in her shoulders, a rawness to her throat. It is blurry, though, for she still has not had a good night's sleep, not in a long time. It is not clear, her memory fades with her exhaustion but she remembers the fear, the moment where her hope had fallen onto its last breath; when that faced Mechon had loomed behind Shulk and Reyn, faced them with its claws of steel and the buzz of cruel laughter. 

She thinks she passes out, at the end. An embarrassing feat, for her memory is vague and fuzzy but she most certainly remembers the familiar face of Dunban, the hero of the homs. And Dickson too, legends amongst the homs, valiant fighters who had protected their colonies from ultimate destruction only one short year ago. 

She falls when the battle is over, when Metal Face makes his escape, when Shulk and Reyn shout out to the empty air, their voices haggard as their screams break the silence of night, tears streaming down their faces, melding with the blood of unhealed injuries that Sharla desperately needs to see to. But it's all fading away, their cries are growing quieter until she cannot hear them at all. Her vision is blurry, her eyes slipping shut. She feels a hand on her back, a voice she does not recognise - Dunban, she thinks - asks if she is alright. There's another hand, the smell of oil, of ether crystals and blood and sweat. But underneath it all, there is the scent of the earth, of tree roots and the ground after rainfall and home. It is Reyn, she thinks. Reyn who smells like that.

That is her last thought before she falls, although she does not hit the ground. 

It is Reyn who catches her, although she does not realise just yet. But yes, it is Reyn who is there, and Reyn who carries off of the charred remains of the battlefield. 

Part of her wants to protest, wants to stand and make the walk back herself, but she finds herself perfectly content here, perfectly comfortable and - as fatigue overtakes her - perfectly content. 

She wakes up only a few minutes later, groggy and weary, with her body propped up against a rock that digs into her back uncomfortably. Shulk looms over her, Reyn is warm by her side and as her eyes flutter open someone grabs her arm. Juju. She brings him close, holds him to her, places a soft kiss into his hairline. Her brother, her family… she's so glad he's safe. She doesn't know what she would have done if he'd- 

When she pulls back, Shulk has shifted, making way for Dunban, who crouches in front of her. It's soon apparent that he and Dickson are the only people here who have any idea of what to do when someone passes out. But Reyn is a warm comfort by her side and Juju is here, with her now.

She shifts herself, her hand resting close enough to Reyn's that they almost touch. Almost. 

And then, ever so carefully, she feels Reyn's hand against hers. His touch is warm, hot, like fire. 

And, despite it all, she smiles. 

x

It is before they make their plans to leave to Sartorl Marsh that Sharla finds herself alone with Otharon. He is stressed, but happy, for they have retaken the Colony. It is flattened, yes, and there is nothing that remains of their old lives, but it is theirs once more. No longer is it occupied by the Mechon. It is not a perfect victory for them, but it is a victory nonetheless, and Sharla will treasure every fortune that ever befalls them from now on. 

Otharon looks over at her with tired eyes, that same gruffness to his expression that Sharla has grown so fond of over their years of friendship. He is a father to her. Her and him and Gadolt and Juju were a family, they cared for one another deeply and they would do anything to ensure one another's safety. 

"Do you think Gadolt could have survived?" She asks, despite herself. And he looks at her with a funny sort of frown, a mix of grief and pity and uncertainty bungled all in one.

"I don't know, Sharla. I don't know. I… I would know if he is dead, I am certain of it. I truly believe that he is alive, but where? I cannot say."

They filter off into silence again, simply standing in one another's presence as the world continues without them. 

There is a shout of laughter from outside, Juju, Sharla instantly recognises. Followed by another laugh, one much deeper. Reyn.

"They're good, those two." Otharon breaks the silence, his lips pursed as if in thought. He doesn't even have to say who those two are, for Sharla already knows. 

"I think Gadolt would have liked them both." He pauses, a quirk to his lips that Sharla rarely sees anymore. "Especially Reyn. And, if he were here, he'd tell you to go for it." 

Sharla flushes before she can stop herself, refusing to look Otharon in the eyes. "I have no idea what you're talking about," she retorts, but her blush deepens as Reyn's voice carries over the wind once more. 

Otharon simply smiles, shaking his head. 

Sharla had never pegged Otharon for the sentimental type, yet he moves forwards, his hands resting upon Sharla's shoulders. He leans downwards, placing a kiss on her forehead. He squeezes her shoulders once, twice, and then steps back. 

"Hurry up, medic. It's time for us to leave." 

x

Throughout the rest of their journey, Sharla finds herself becoming closer and closer with Reyn.

As they learn about one another more and more, she finds her opinion of him slowly changing.

At first, she had been hesitant, for once they neared the end of Satorl Marsh, it had been only Shulk, Reyn, Dunban and herself continuing onwards to Makna Forest, for Juju and Otharon felt their talents were wasted out here, they would be far more useful back at home, rebuilding their dear Colony. Dickson too was leaving, although Sharla did not quite understand why.

She had felt uncomfortable, out of place now that her own family were gone. Reyn and Shulk were as close as two friends could be, practically conjoined at the hip from birth, and Dunban was a mentor to the two of them. They were their own unit, their own family, and she could not hope to match that. Sharla could not see how she would fit between them, how she would feel at home when these three were already so close. A fourth wheel, she would become. Not quite one of them, not quite welcome. 

But when she draws herself away, crawls into her own shell more and more, it is Reyn who pulls her out. Reyn who says the most stupid of things, who acts without thinking and complains when Sharla has to patch him up, Reyn who seems to know exactly what to do to cheer her up.

And soon that discomfort fades into nothing.

She slots right into their little group. Shulk, she finds out, takes an interest in her rifles, especially her use of ether. He is smart, calculating, and although he is not the strongest he has a good heart; pure intentions. The Monado on his back never quite suits him, but Sharla learns to rely on him, for his unexpectedness and his tendency to achieve the impossible. 

Dunban is someone who she instantly gets along with. He has a sharp sense of humour and scathing wit, qualities which they both share. They spend many an evening in hotheaded debates that go nowhere, throwing over insults to one another whenever the time is right. And, whenever Reyn does something stupid or Shulk once again proves his complete and utter lack of observational skills, it is Dunban who Sharla looks to, who can make her have to smother sniggers behind her hand. She is also the one who helps him with his half-paralysed arm. It is her who makes him medicine to numb the shooting pains and her who helps him slowly learn to gain more and more mobility with it. He is an old soul, chivalrous and polite to a fault, although Sharla has proven that she can do more than pull her own weight, and he is pleasant company. 

But it is Reyn who she is closest with. Reyn who she keeps watch with, who she sits and talks to long into the night. It is Reyn - who is both like and unlike Gadolt - who Sharla finds herself drawn to.

She thinks that perhaps he feels the same, although she knows he would never mention anything and he certainly would never act upon it. He, for all his pig-headedness, is smarter sometimes than people give him credit for. His general knowledge is lacking, but he has strong morals, a strong sense of who he is, and Sharla likes that.

Nothing needs to be said, though. Not right now. It is not the time, Sharla doesn't know when it will be the time. Even when Gadolt was here, beside her, their relationship had always seemed strange to those outdoors. It was not conventional, not to a lot of people, but it had worked and it had made both her and Gadolt happy.

Sharla needs to keep herself in check, just because her and Gadolt had thrived on the openness of their relationship does not mean that now is the time to complicate what they already have. She is used to Gadolt's absence, although never like this. She is used to their separation, their differing times in the field and their conflicted schedules, both of them had found others on their own, had not needed to ask for permission because they were always honest, always open. Part of her forgets that Gadolt isn't here, that she can't just wait a few more days and find him at her side, that she won't see him coming home from over the horizon, that he won't be there waiting for her in their old house.

So she says nothing, as does Reyn, yet still they grow closer. Close enough that Sharla can read each and every expression that flickers across Reyn's face, close enough that he can do the same with her. 

Gadolt would have - will - like him. She knows this like she knows herself. 

x

So life continues and their journey goes on. New companions are made and new reaches of the Bionis are discovered. Melia and Riki join their group, welcome additions that bring their own strengths and weaknesses to the party. Melia, although stuck-up and (slightly) insufferable at first, soon grows more comfortable, loses her pompous act, her dismissive air she had once held with them, and settles herself into the dynamics of their group. Sharla grows to like her, for she values the company of another woman out here - she had missed that, for although they are different species, Melia gets her in a way that the rest of the group can't. It is Melia who she first mentions her dynamics with Gadolt, how their relationship had worked before this whole mess. She doesn't quite understand, not really, but there is a support that Melia gives, a gentleness to her, that Sharla didn't even realise she'd been missing. 

Riki… is more difficult. She likes Riki, she finds him hilarious - although she's not sure whether he is intentionally funny or if it… just sort of… happens. He's strange, though. Bizarre. There's never a dull moment with him in their group, especially when he and Reyn are working together. Their dynamic reminds Sharla of the children back at Colony 6, of bickering siblings. It is entertaining, a spot of lightness in the ever-growing darkness of their world.

Reyn becomes her rock, though. The person who grounds her through thick and thin, who keeps her tethered when all her mind wants to do is float away. He is always who she goes to for comfort, and it is him who flushes, looks down at her with an expression in his eyes that Sharla knows all too well - but still, nothing is said, nothing is done. 

Mechon are destroyed and misfortune seems to follow them at every turn. Shulk has more visions, their path forwards grows clearer and clearer. And then it happens.

They find Fiora, her body trapped in steel and iron, and Sharla hopes.

She hopes and hopes that if Fiora, if Mumkhar, (as they find out, later on) are still living, then maybe, just maybe, Gadolt still lives too.

x

When Fiora is reclaimed, her body - although not as it once was - is successfully removed from the unit of her Mechon armour, Sharla thinks that maybe Gadolt truly could be with her once more. That, maybe, after all of this; her fiance will be with her once more. 

Her theory proves to be correct. Much, much later on, and they are reunited once more.

He is weak when they find him. Struggling under the control of Egil, struggling to break free from the confines placed on his mind. But he's always been strong and, eventually, he pulls through.

He is half metal, flesh and skin replaced with bolts and screws, he is not the Gadolt she remembers nor the Gadolt she has been dreaming about but he is alive. She kisses him, there and then, ignoring their audience waiting behind them. The kiss is cooler than she is used to, he had always been cold but this is different, and when her hand reaches up to trace at his jaw, she feels the unfamiliar divots of skin into machine. It's different and not quite right, but Sharla is certain that she can get used to it. It's Gadolt. 

And then Reyn approaches from behind, his face flushed as he introduces himself to Gadolt. His usual bravado is lost in uncertainty, but he gradually gains some of his confidence back as Gadolt grins at him, holds out a mechanical hand for him to shake. The rest of the gang introduces themselves next, and Gadolt is nothing but kind and cordial, although Sharla does not miss the way his eyes flicker to Reyn. 

But they must move on, and Gadolt is weakened. There is no choice but to leave him behind. Not for long, mind you, they will return for him, but there are still things that need to be done and Gadolt urges them onwards. However, before Sharla can give him a kiss goodbye, he grabs her arm, pushes himself upwards to whisper in her ear. His breath blows against her hair, ticklish on her skin.

"Reyn, Hmm?" He says, blowing a puff of laughter against his neck.

Sharla snorts, a wicked smile playing on her features. "Can you blame me?"

Gadolt's eyes flicker over to Reyn, look him up and down before glancing back at Sharla. "Have you said anything to him, you know, about… us?"

Sharla shakes her head, tilting herself away from Reyn, pitching her voice low enough so there's no way in the world he'll be able to hear her. 

"I didn't want to scare him off, especially since you weren't around. I- Gods, I missed you, I thought you could have been- when you weren't in the colony… I'm so glad you're alive." Her words tumble out of her in a flush of stolen breath, upheld emotion trickling from her lips like sand through one's fingers. She heaves out a sigh, loud and heavy, as though she can expel months of grief and pain in one fell swoop. 

But Gadolt is here, Gadolt is alive, and Sharla thinks that there is hope for them yet.

Things will work out. They have to. 

And Gadolt smiles at her, looks over at Reyn until he catches his attention, and smiles at him too. Reyn's returning grin is hesitant and half-formed, but there's a flush to his cheeks that can't really be explained and a shyness in his eyes that reminds Sharla of the way he looks at her.

She grins over at him too, takes Gadolt's hand in hers and kisses him in (temporary) goodbye. 

Gadolt seals his blessing as he says goodbye to the group, his dark eyes trained on Reyn as he asks him to look out for Sharla. Reyn looks between them, a slightly confused frown across his face - as if he is lost in thought, trying to figure things out. But just before they can leave, Gadolt stops them once more.

"And Sharla, you look after Reyn too, okay? Make sure both of you- all of you - get out of here alive."

Reyn stands up straight, mock salutes, and then takes Sharla's hand in his own. He looks between the two of them once more, looks down at Gadolt and then to Sharla, his head tilted before realisation flashes across his eyes. Gadolt gives him a thumbs up, a smile, and Reyn squeezes Sharla's hand, brings her closer to him. 

"Is this okay?" He whispers to her as they turn their backs to Gadolt, eyes trained on the long journey still ahead of them.

"This is perfect," Sharla says, and she shifts herself closer.

x

Gadolt does not die in the explosion, but it is a very near thing. She thinks, perhaps, there is another world where she is mourning. Another world where Gadolt dies in that explosion, and this time he will not be coming back. 

But miracles do happen and he survives. He goes on to live another day. Weakened, yes. Only minutes away from certain death, but he is still alive. He is still here, by her side. They have another chance at happiness.

And they have Vanea on their side. She will help him, as she has done with Fiora. They still have his Unit, the Mechon weapon he had been strapped into with wires and ether. It is damaged, almost beyond repair, but it is not broken. Almost is a powerful word, a word which Sharla clings to. Almost is her hope.

That is what she must hold on to. That is what will keep her going.

And, throughout all the events that follow, it is Reyn who she clings close to. Reyn who watches her back, who is solid ground beside her when the ether is thick and smothering in the air, when she too feels like that blue light, as though she is merely a wisp of energy that is begging to fade away. 

They do talk about it, at some point. With Gadolt still weak, still half-Mechon, resting in Vanea's makeshift infirmary. Her and Gadolt and Reyn. They talk about it all, about everything, and at first Reyn is hesitant, still not quite sure where his place lies between them all. But as the conversation continues, as Sharla takes one hand and Gadolt takes the other, a smile crosses his face. 

When they leave, for Gadolt needs his rest, Sharla leans down to kiss him, her fingers tracing his jawline, feeling the mix of flesh and metal against the pads of her fingers. And then, when she steps back, it is Reyn who takes her place. Her face is flushed as she watches them, for she had not expected Reyn to be so… enthusiastic over this so quickly. But Reyn has always been an all-in sort of person, and this appears to be no exception.

When he pulls back, Gadolt looking half surprised and very pleased with himself, Sharla finds herself grabbing Reyn, pulling him down for a kiss of her own. 

x

They fight and it seems hopeless but over the past year, Sharla has grown good at holding on to nothing. So she hopes, with Reyn by her side and Gadolt (slowly) on the mend, and she thinks they can do this.

She thinks that, when it is all over, they will be happy. Together.

x

Three years pass in their new world. Some things change, some things stay the same.

There are things which Sharla knows, things that are familiar to her. Things that will always be by her side, for how could there be any other way? Gadolt and Reyn, the two of them, are familiar to her in a way that nothing else is. Their presence beside her is a constant, something which she knows and treasures, something which she finds comfort and solace in. 

Gadolt is the same man he always was. Perhaps a little more reserved, a little sharper around the edges, but he is Gadolt. He always will be, no matter what happens next and no matter what happened before. He has been returned to his homs body, just like Fiora had, by some science-driven miracle that none of them can even begin to wrap their heads around, and he is home. Not the home from before, but a new home. One that has been rebuilt, one that has been transformed to fit their new world. It is fitting, for no longer is it Sharla and Gadolt, but it is now Sharla, Gadolt and Reyn, and although nothing can ever be perfect, what they have now is pretty damn close. 

Reyn, too, is familiar to Sharla. He is perhaps a bit more mature, with his twenty-second birthday approaching soon. But he is still a loudmouth, still confident and rash and always he carries with him that tendency to act first and think later. He is brash and bold and there is a wildness, an unpredictability, that neither Gadolt nor Sharla have. He slots between the two of them like he was always meant to be, fits the cracks as though he were made to be by their side. The idea is corny, sentimental, but it is true. That is how Sharla feels, and she knows that Reyn and Gadolt feel exactly the same.

When she holds the two of them close, Gadolt's skin slightly chilled and Reyn's warm like autumn fires, she feels whole. As though the cracks have been filled, like a broken vase glued back together again.

And Sharla, at the end of it all, is still herself. There are faint little wrinkles around her eyes that weren't there before, Smile lines, Reyn had said. Wrinkles, Gadolt had interjected with a laugh. 

But it is the three of them now, eventually. At the end of it all, in their new world, they are together. Despite it all, despite everything that had threatened to tear it all apart, they had survived. They had made it, they had carried on living for the new tomorrow. 

It had taken them a while to get here. Things that needed to be worked through, words that needed to be said; boundaries that they needed to set. But it works. Her, Reyn and Gadolt. They work. 

They sit in their house together, their little kitchen. Painted yellow, their furniture a mismatch of colours that don't quite work, but her and Gadolt and Reyn had painted it, picked whatever colour they felt like and had just had fun. (It had been Reyn's request, for that is what he had done with his own family, long ago when he was just a child) They sit together, all of them, and Sharla watches them, watches the two of them. Sees Gadolt's face curve into a bright smile, watches Reyn's eyes crinkle at the edges as he laughs, and she takes their hands into their own.

She is quiet, looks over the two of them, feels love swell deep in her bones, a sunlight-warmth spread through her, the light of a thousand stars shining out of her very soul. They make their vows, their promises, there and then, sitting in their little kitchen. They do not need a wedding, they do not need a ceremony. But they are here, together. 

They sit there, the three of them, their hands joined with hers, one warm and one cold and both perfect, and although this new world does not have gods, she feels blessed. 

It had all worked out, in the end, and Sharla wouldn't change a thing.

**Author's Note:**

> It's been a while since I last dipped into the Xenoblade fandom, and I pray to any god out there that my writing has improved since then.


End file.
